A Name is an Honorable Thing
by Ajpenguin
Summary: A young Death Krops Trooper finds his place. Cover Image from /artwork/xyd0O


The dummy rockets came crashing into the torn up battlefield around the platoon. The Lieutenant shouted to his men to grab cover. The Kriegers ran for cover, finding it in shell holes and wrecked vehicles. Trooper #4489 clutched his lasgun to his chest as rockets and mortar shells exploded around them. He braced up against the ruined husk of a Leman Russ as more mortar shells hit the ground, shrapnel ricocheting off the metal hull. He looked to his comrades, they all looked fine, and ready. The Lieutenant's runner came running by to each man, he finally came to #4489.

"Trooper, are you ready to die for the Emperor and your brothers."

"Yes sir!" #4489 hastily responded.

The runner nodded, "Good when our reinforcements arrive we will make our final charge into these traitor's lines. Ready yourself private."

"Aye sir"

The shelling stopped for only a minute before it started again, the sheeling was compounded with tracer fire from heavy stubbers in the enemy trench. From their Krieg lines a loud battle cry rose as men went over the top.

"GOTT KAISER MIT UNS!" The entire company seemed to shout, no man staying silent. They rushed through no mans land, firing their weapons, the cracks and pop from their lasguns. Trooper #4489 and his squad mates turned their weapons towards the enemy laying down a hail of suppressive fire as they're brothers came up behind them. Added amongst the soft pop of las fire was the thunderous report of a bolt pistol.

#4489 looked over his shoulder as the resolute boom came closer to him, he hoped to see the towering figure of one of the Emperor's angels. Instead he saw only the imposing figure of a commissar. He stood tall beside #4489 pointing towards the enemy trench with his saber.

"Onward men! Let us rout these traitors that dare stand before the Korps!" His voice was firm and strong against the tide of incoming fire. He looked around him and then directly at #4489. "You! Private follow me and the let us show our brothers how real men of Krieg fight!"

"Ye- yes sir!" #4489 stood and shouldered his lasrifle and fired at any head that popped out above the parapet. "Lead on sir."

"Good! Gott Kaiser mit uns!" The Commissar leaped over the torn hull of the leman russ, and charged the enemy trench. #4489 and his squadmates behind him.

They ran through enemy fire, leaped over shell holes, dodged barbwire hedges, and ducked from airburst shells. Stopping every so often to fire a shot or take cover. #4489 never dared to leave the Commissar's side for fear of being labeled a coward, as well as his own battle lust growing. They stopped just yards from the heretic trenches, taking cover in a captured foxhole. The Commissar looked at the men who'd followed him, some had been cut down on the charge over.

"Grenades men! With them we will clear this section of the trench and secure a foothold for our brothers. Do me and the Emperor proud, throw true!"

Like the others #4489 took his grenades from his web gear and whispered a quiet prayer to the God Emperor, he yanked the pins from his grenades and lobbed them into the trench ahead of them. A few seconds passed and a small scatter of explosions threw up dirt and other debris. The Commissar raised his saber and ran out towards the enemy, the men followed him. #4489 scrabbling up the wall of the foxhole and sprinting to the parapet. He fired a few shots into the muddy ditch at anything that moved. He dropped into the trench and fired down the length of it, one of his squadmates on a knee in front of him doing the same. The Commissar standing between the small group of Kriegsman shouting orders, praise to the Emperor, and condemning the traitors they were fighting. It didn't take long for the section they'd captured to be filled with more of their comrades, more and more guardsmen dropping into the muddy position.

#4489 stopped his stream of las fire as he swapped the power pack in his rifle. He felt a hand fall on his shoulder. He turned it was the Commissar, Kriegsman looked at Kriegsman they nodded to one another.

"Well done Private. Truly the Emperor has blessed us this day, but our work is not yet finished. I'm leading a charge into the dugouts and bunkers I want you to follow me. Understood?" The Officer spoke, his voice was still firm and strong.

#4489 nodded, "Yes sir. I will go where you and the Emperor lead me."

"Good, now affix your bayonet trooper."

#4489 did as he was told pulling the sword bayonet from its scabbard at his side and attaching to the end of his rifle. The Commissar mentioned to follow him. Officer and trooper descended into the dark of the first dugout. It was dead silent, it wasn't for long. The barracks was filled with the deafening report of bolt pistol, lasgun, and autorifle. At the end traitors lie dead and dying. The pair continued deeper, coming to a hallway. A blood curdling scream erupted down the hall, a traitor brandishing rusted combat knives came running at the trooper. #4489 dropped to a knee and thrusted up, impaling the heretic on his bayonet, the Commissar fired, reducing the man's head to fine pink mist. Trooper looked to Officer, the officer nodded and they continued deeper into the dim hell of wood and dirt.

They came at last to a command room, tables, lamps, maps, and vox casters were placed about the room. The Commissar looked to his trooper.

"Quickly grab anything that looks of strategic importance. Quickly they wouldn't leave things like this unguarded for long."

#4489 obeyed his orders, rushing about the room collecting maps and data slates, something anything would aid the war effort. The Commissar stood by looking on, taking glances down the hallways and keeping a ready grip on his pistol and sword. The trooper was scribbling down the frequency the Vox caster was set to as it chattered away. Out of nowhere he was tackled by a snarling beast of a man. #4489's helmet was thrown from his head, a cut of dirty blonde hair slammed into the mud. He shouted back at the snarling traitor. The heretic in question, wore only boots and tattered fatigues, his shirt torn from his chest, chaotic runes carved into his flesh. His eyes glowed with void filled hate. #4489 kept the possessed traitor off him, shoving and pushing back, punching with a gloved hand across the snarling jaw inches from his mask. The Commissar ran forward stabbing into the Heretic's back with his saber. The snarling creature of a man turned his attention on the officer.

"Come at me you Warp tainted Heretic!" The Commissar cried as he lifted his bolt pistol. The bolt shell tearing the creature's arm clean off.

It kept coming slashing at the Commissar ripping his mask and hat from his head. Revealing a grizzled and war weary face. The armless heretic pinned the Commissar to a wall and tried to bite down on him. #4489 quickly rose to his feet and freed his entrenching tool from the hook on his waist and ran forward digging the blade of the spade on the possessed man's neck. He kept hacking away, tearing the traitor from the Commissar and finally decapitating the man turned warp spawn.

#4489 dropped to his knees and panted, bloody spade in his hands, corpse before him. Behind him he heard a soft and somewhat pained chuckle. #4489 turned and walked over to the Commissar and helped him up he started for the exit.

"No...no, the chair, put me in the chair trooper." The Commissar wheezed.

"Oh, alright Sir." #4489 pulled one of the chairs out and set the Commissar down in one. He went to collect his helmet and lasgun. He was about to put his helmet back on when the Commissar spoke again.

"No don't put it on yet. Sit Soldier." He pointed to the other chair. "He was they're last line of defense, we're safe now. Let's talk."

"We're men of war, not of talk, Sir. We should be pursuing the enem-" #4489 started before being cut off.

"Oh hush, let us talk soldier to soldier. Sit."

#4489 set his helmet on the table and sat down. Without his hat or mask the Commissar looked like an old father. He'd certainly seen more than enough war for one or two lifetimes. His hair was silver and face lined and scared. He sat quietly, not sure what to say to this veteran of the guard and schola progenium.

It was old man who spoke first anyway, "What's your name Trooper?"

"Name, Sir?" #4489 cocked his head, he blinked behind his gas mask trying to think up a reason behind the question.

The Commissar chuckled again, "A Name Trooper, what are you called. Your squadmates what do they call you?"

"Just 4489 Sir. It's my number, Kriegsman don't get a name. Aren't you a Kriegsman?"

"Right, right, the numbers." The Commissar had forgotten about that little fact. "When I first arrived at the Schola they said a number wouldn't cut it so they gave me a name, Ferdinand Wolffe. So, 4489 what's your name?"

"I don't have one sir." Trooper #4489 said quietly.

"Fine let's give you one. Take your mask off, let me get a look at you." Ferdinand said with another soft chuckle.

#4489 adjusted the straps on his mask and let it fall around his neck. He looked young, very young. By terran standards he looked about eighteen, by Krieg standards he was fit to fight. A short cut of dirty blonde hair, pale skin that seemed never to have seen the sun, and piercing blue eyes. Ferdinand stroked his chin, he was deep in thought. Suddenly his eyes light up.

"You look like a Fritz. Yes Fritz, that will work just fine. How do you like it?" Ferdinand asked his subordinate turned friend.

#4489, no Fritz mulled it over in his head. "Fritz… Fritz, Fritz." He said it out loud to get a feel for it. He looked back at the old man. "Why give me a name?"

"To remind you." Was all the Commissar said.

"Remind me of what?" Fritz asked.

"To remind you that you are a man, but not just any man. A man of the Guard, a soldier of the Emperor. A truly noble profession, and you need an equally noble name. Wear it proudly Fritz." Ferdinand said with a smile. The smile quickly faded and he coughed and wheezed. Fritz jumped from his seat to help the Commissar. Ferdinand held up a hand, "No! Stay back."

"What's the matter?" Fritz asked, his voice shook faintly.

"The Heretic he got me, I've felt it growing in me. Fritz, you can't take me back, I'll only spread it, and they might kill us both. I need you to do a few things for me." Commissar Wolffe braced himself on the table as he had another coughing fit.

Fritz wanted to help, but knew better than to rush forward. "What do you want me to do?"

Ferdinand sat backup the best he could, He took off the glove on his left hand and pulled a silver ring off his finger. He then took a locket out of a pocket of his coat. He then looked at Fritz, "First, there is another Commissar attached to your regiment. She should be near the rear lines with the rest of the Command staff. Bring her these things. And second, my bolt pistol, I need you grant me the Emperor's peace, only a fellow Guardsman can absolve me of this sin." He shoved the ring and locket into Fritz's hands. "The pistol is on the ground over there."

Fritz looked at Commissar Wolffe with a hint of terror in his eyes, "I can't. No I can't do that."

Ferdinand looked at Fritz, "It's my final order to you Fritz, please."

Fritz stood there awkwardly, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. He looked at the Commissar and then the trinkets in his hand. "Yes sir." He walked over to the bolt pistol and picked it up, wiping the mud and grime from the ornate weapon. He stood before Ferdinand and saluted, "It's been an honor Sir."

"Likewise Fritz. Serve with dignity and honor, and may the Emperor bless you." Ferdinand took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Fritz pulled his gas mask back up and in place. He raised the bolt pistol and aimed at the man's heart. "Gott Kaiser mit uns." He whispered as he pulled the trigger, the thunderous boom ringing off the walls of the command bunker. He put Commissar Ferdinand Wolffe in the most peaceful position he could, he made the sign of the aquilla on his chest and whispered a quiet prayer to the God Emperor to reward this stalwart bastion of faith and duty. He saluted the Commissar one last time and put his helmet back on, stuffed the bolt pistol in his web gear, and grabbed his lasrifle from the ground and swiftly exited the maze of tunnels.

He emerged from the dug out to see the trench teeming with fellow Kriegsman. Some were reinforcing their new position, others were collecting wargear from comrades and enemies alike, and some were heading further into enemy lines. Fritz found a communication trench the engineers were hastily digging to connect their old lines with the new one. He moved down it swiftly not wanting to be caught by any officers and questioned on why he was heading to the rear lines. He had a mission to complete, an important mission to fulfill a man's dying wish. It took a few more turns and trenches to eventually make it to where he could safely start asking for the position the other Commissar had taken. He asked a few Engineers and other Officers, they pointed him to a command bunker.

Inside was a buzzing of activity. High ranking officers of Regimental Command were talking to aids, runners, vox operators, and each other. Off to one side looking out one of the view slits in the ferrocrete a woman stood gazing over the battlefield. Her great coat and hat betrayed her rank as commissar. Fritz carefully approached her.

"Ahem Ma'am?" He asked just loud enough to get her attention.

She turned to face him a long braid of brown hair was draped down one shoulder she too looked like she'd seen enough war to shell shock three veterans of the guard. Her left eye was gone instead covered by an eyepatch.

"What is it Trooper? I don't have all day to stand here with you just staring." The woman barked at him.

"I, I have orders to give you some things." Fritz stammered out.

"Who are you? And who sent you?" She tore into him, as she took an intimidating step forward.

"Trooper #48… Fritz. I'm Fritz, Commissar Wolffe sent me." Fritz held out his hand, the ring and locket sat in his palm.

She took a step back and picked up the ring and locket, she took her gasmask off. She was clearly not a Krieger, possibly Cadian, Fritz wasn't sure. He'd only seen a cadian once before. She looked at him, "He gave you that name didn't he?"

"Yes Ma'am." Fritz nodded as he spoke.

She smiled as she opened the locket, "Well I assume he went down proudly."

"Yes Ma'am he did."

"I suppose I should introduce myself, Andrea Wolffe, Commissar Wolffe's wife."

"I assumed as much Ma'am." Fritz replied quietly.

"Well Fritz, I am need of a personal aid and bodyguard. Are you in need of a posting?"

Fritz looked at Andrea, "It'd be an Honor Ma'am."

"Good, Now two mugs of recaff on the double, my Office we have to get your name and new posting officiated." She turned on her heels and started walking.

Fritz followed close behind her, "Yes Ma'am!"

~~FIN~~


End file.
